When I was in high school, I took a biology class, and my teacher didn’t like me. For one third of the class, she graded me harshly, giving me scores I KNOW I did not deserve. But then she left on maternity leave, and we got a substitute teacher. In the remaining two thirds of that class, I managed to push my grade up by TWENTY PERCENT. So you see, I never wronged biology. Even in that case, biology was out to get ME. Which brings me to the first time that I realized that biology and I can never be friends:
I have a confession to make.
The name of my blog is The Cozy Cat Lady – but I’m afraid that name was chosen more for the character of my soul than for reality, because I’m actually allergic to cats. When I get too close to a cat, my eyes turn red, I start sneezing uncontrollably, and breathing gets slightly less fun – not that that stops me. I still get right up close to them, and pretend as hard as I can. But the fact is that I can never have my own cat.
In my soul though? I love big comfy sweaters. I love chairs with soft cushions and outdated styles. I love it when couches have weird flower prints. I adore old furniture (not vintage; just old). I adore the fact that cats are so…real. They’re not going to pretend they want company when they don’t, they just do their own thing, and trust you to know that they love you. They’re introverted, they’re unapologetic about their naps, and you know they’re around, supporting you, even when you can’t see them. I am very much a cat person.
Except for the fact that I’m allergic.
I was robbed, y’all. And biology was the culprit.